


You're a Mess, Too

by Renabe



Series: Renabe's Works for Fair Game Week 2020 [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Clover Ebi Lives, Depiction of scar caused by events of ch12, Fair Game Week (RWBY), Hurt/Comfort, Lots of tears, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Positive ending, Reference to ch12, contents of nightmares not explicitly stated, hinted dysphoria on Clover's part because of the scar, raw depictions of emotional pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renabe/pseuds/Renabe
Summary: Qrow tries to fly away from the pain only to be stopped by his niece. The emotional breakdown isn't what he wants, but it might be what he needs in order to accept that Clover is indeed alive. After what he's sure is not enough time to recuperate, he finds himself at Clover's door with a little outside help. It takes a lot of willpower to open that door.Marked in-fic as PART 1 and PART 2.PART 1 is markedly more painful than PART 2PART 2 contains hurt but most of the comfortFeel free to scroll down to PART 2 if you wish to skip PART 1, PART 2 is readable as a stand-alone
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Renabe's Works for Fair Game Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666021
Comments: 17
Kudos: 108





	You're a Mess, Too

**Author's Note:**

> FairGameWeek Day 5: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> This basically ignores everything surrounding Salem and other things going on, as I just wanted to focus on characters. As such the setting is vague. Again my only focus here is the characters. Hopefully I did them justice.
> 
> Please check the tags before reading, and stay safe.

**PART 1**

A storm of petals chased after the bird, adrenaline pushing Ruby faster than ever as she returned to her normal form just in time to wrap determined arms around the crow tightly before plummeting toward the ground once more.

Tears streaming from her face as she landed hard on one knee, she pulled the small creature’s body away from herself so she could look him in the eyes. He tried to break free, but she held him tightly, too tightly, enough to bruise. But she had to keep him there.

She accused, "I did not tear you from the depths of despair for you to choose to run away all over again!"

The flailing bird stilled, bone chilling guilt freezing him in place as he looked helplessly into silver orbs that ripped his already tattered heart into even more pieces. Hot, angry tears splashed his feathers, each drop feeling like the sharp blade of a knife cutting through him.

The girl sobbed, body shaking as she continued, "I won't let you. Last time I did it for me, for the team, for the whole world! This time… this time it's for _you_ , Uncle Qrow. I won't let you do this to yourself."

The bird began to tremble, emotions too strong for such a small body wracking his entire being. But what was he to do? He just saw the man whom he was sure died before his very eyes, the man who spent the better part of the last few months worming his way into his tired heart before the universe snatched him away, walking toward him with the most hopeful expression he had ever seen.

He was hurt, lost, terrified of what he saw. It was impossible, so achingly unreal that it had to be a trick, he had to escape. His mind couldn't bear it, so he did what he knew would protect his fragile soul. He flew away.

And yet, here was his niece, denying him that last respite from the darkness that consumed him, all while screaming at him that he was wrong. That this wasn't the way to survive. She looked so pained, so full of sorrow for someone who just wasn't worth it.

But that was it, wasn't it? She believed he was worth it. She always had. Even now, furious as she was, pained as she was, she still believed it. 

"Please, Uncle Qrow," she whimpered, voice cracking as her eyes begged him for some sign that he understood, that he would stay. "I know you need this, and you _deserve_ it."

Without warning, feathers faded, replaced by a broken man. Tears stung his eyes before overflowing completely, and he clung to the girl in a desperate embrace as he wept. His face twisted in grief, pressed against a small shoulder as agonized wails shook him to the core.

Ruby cried with him, small hands holding him close as the tears ran their course. It hurt to see her family like this, hurt to hear his tormented cries, to feel the violent trembling that overtook him, but she knew he needed to get it out. Slowly, her own breathing evened out, and while she didn’t have Ren’s semblance for passing his calmness along, she hoped her steadying hold on her uncle would let him feel safe as he unleashed all the grief he felt within. She hoped his opening up like this meant that he was ready to accept that he deserved to heal. That when his tears dried, he would believe he mattered. That he was enough.

A long while passed before loud cries settled into tired sniffles, exhaustion setting in and wearing him out. Everything hurt, his throat, his eyes, his chest from both being squeezed in bird form and from the heaving of the emotional breakdown. Qrow couldn’t even lift his head from its place on his niece’s shoulder. He wasn’t even sure he could think.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Ruby, “for getting angry.”

Qrow wanted to apologize, but his voice was long since gone from overuse, so instead he just squeezed a little tighter to let her know it was okay, that she did nothing wrong.

“I love you, Uncle Qrow.”

He hugged her tighter still, mouthing the words back even though no sound came out. He would have cried all over again if he had the strength.

They made a deal, once Qrow regained enough energy to stand on his own again and Ruby managed to fish her scroll from her pocket to let everyone know they were safe. Qrow would stay, but he wouldn’t see him right away. He couldn’t. He needed time, time to rest off the emotional hangover of crying on his poor niece, and time for his voice to return after crying so hard he lost it. Fat lot of good it would do to see anyone if he couldn’t actually do any talking.

And most importantly… he needed time to accept the man was even alive after all that happened. Qrow needed to be sure he wouldn’t have a breakdown all over again just from seeing him. He made sure Ruby knew to remind him every day until he was ready, that Clover Ebi lived, so his brain couldn’t deny it, couldn’t fabricate stories of him losing his mind in order to cope. She assured him she would remind him multiple times a day, that she would let him know how Clover was doing, what he was up to, if it would help him prepare for a reunion.

\---

Time slowly dragged on, and so a week passed, Qrow remaining holed up in his room. He felt unwell, was barely regaining his voice, and feared leaving his own space lest he run into anyone else. Ruby did as was promised, visiting him several times a day to keep him up to date on their plans, to make sure he was eating and sleeping, and to tell him about Clover.

Yang came with her sometimes, no doubt for emotional support, as the first few times he was reduced to full blown panic attacks. He felt both grateful and guilty that they stayed until he calmed down when it happened. He needed a proper therapist, he knew he couldn't keep doing this to his nieces.

But the last couple days had been better, sure the nausea and anxiety were still there, but he could handle those symptoms, to an extent.

A knock on his door jolted Qrow from his thoughts. The anxiety crept up, but he stood to see who it was. Ruby was just there, it couldn't be her. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle and asked, "Who is it?" His voice was still rough and cracked as he spoke.

"Just me, open the door."

Yang. Hoo, okay, that was fine. But she never came to see him by herself before. Brothers, poor Yang, he really needed to apologize for their strained relationship. He opened the door, motioning for her to come inside. She didn't.

"Come with me," she said in a tone that was both gentle and firm.

Qrow blanched, gripping the door tightly in apprehension. He didn't think he was ready to leave his room yet.

Yang offered him her left hand, insisting, "Come with me." Her posture was relaxed, welcoming, nothing to fear. Shaking, he took her hand, let her lead him out.

She walked him through the rundown building they were currently inhabiting, to a room at the far back. She gave his hand a squeeze and said, "Ruby is afraid to push you too hard. But I think you need it, because there's someone here who needs you too. He won't say it, but he's been suffering just as much as you have."

Qrow stared wide-eyed at his niece before opening his mouth to protest. Yang cut him off.

"I won't force you to go in. I'm just showing you the door." She released his hand and hesitantly pulled her uncle into a hug. "I'm going to leave, so you can make this decision freely."

Trembling hands returned the embrace, only briefly, afraid if they held on too long they wouldn't let go at all. He really needed to apologize to both of his nieces for making them take care of him. And he would, soon, he silently promised.

Yang withdrew and offered a small smile, sad yet hopeful, before leaving the way she came.

Leaving Qrow alone.

**PART 2**

Qrow's gaze bore into the door in front of him. Was he really in there? He wanted to know. Qrow was too afraid, what if there was no one? What if he was there but didn't want to see him? Qrow ran his fingers down the worn wooden door, trying to ground himself. He should knock, he thought. Couldn't. The sound would be deafening. His fingers slid down to the doorknob, and he shivered at the frigid metal. Inhaling deeply, he wrapped his hand around the knob, feeling the prickling cold against his palm, and exhaled. The inner workings of the knob protested as he twisted it, and he stopped to lean his head against the door frame.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He pushed, the door opened. The room inside was small and bare, from what he could see in the grey light that filtered in from a single window. There was a small table with a chair to the right, under the window. And to the left, he stepped inside to peer around the door.

A bed, or some semblance of one, and sitting atop was a sheet covering a large lump. A large, shaking lump. Shuddered breaths reached Qrow's ears, followed by whimpers, and his heart sank. Nightmares. Of course he would have nightmares too, after what happened.

Qrow's hand found its way to the back of the door, slowly shutting it behind him, leaving him in the dimly lit room with the man. He took a step closer, stopped to reconsider. Should he wake him? Would he lash out? Could he really leave the man to face the same nightmares he himself had?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He walked quietly toward the fitfully sleeping figure, carefully sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out, his own hand shaking, touching what appeared to be a shoulder. No response. Feeling just a bit braver, he brushed fingers against damp, brown locks that stuck out from under the sheet, smoothing them back. He continued with delicate, soothing strokes through the other's hair, rubbed his temple gently until the tremors slowed.

A slight movement and the covers shifted, exposing a face that was paler than it should be, glistening with sweat from restless sleep. Eyelids squeezed tighter shut, then relaxed a moment, until ultimately opening to reveal weary teal, tired and unfocused.

Qrow's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen. He never thought he'd see that shade of green again, deep as the sea. He thought it was lost to the world, to him. Those eyes became clearer, widening with recognition.

"Qrow?"

What was that voice, so meek and frail? A sweaty hand covered his own, held on tight, and teal pools filled with water that spilled over silently.

"You're really here, right?" A choked laugh, a failed attempt at humor.

Qrow accepted it, and dealt it back. "That's my line." 

“I’m here.” Clover was serious, then, his gaze unwavering, even through tears. He repeated the line, needed to see in Qrow’s eyes that he believed it, that he understood.

The huntsman nodded mutely, unsure what to say to that. All the evidence he needed was right in front of him, warm and breathing.

Clover made to sit up, grunting in pain at the effort. Qrow tried to tell him it wasn't necessary, that he should rest, but ultimately helped him up when he persisted.

"Still pretty sore," Clover admitted, "but it's not all bad." He raised his free hand, slowly, touched the back of his fingers to Qrow's cheek. "Qrow, I-"

"Show me."

"What?"

Pale fingers reached for the wrinkled t-shirt that clung to Clover, soaked in sweat. Hovered over his chest, afraid to touch, afraid to hurt.

"Show me."

Clover grabbed that hand, a little tighter than intended, and looked away.

"No."

"Clover."

"Not now." Teal sought crimson again, pleading. "Later. Right now I just want to see you."

Qrow let out a frustrated sigh, but relented. He gave a tug to his hand, which Clover ignored, continuing to hold on. "Pretty touchy feely for just wanting to see me," he teased, but it sounded wrong to his ears.

A haunted look crossed over Clover's face. He sighed, lowering their joined hands but not letting go. "I've _seen_ … a lot of things lately. I can't always trust my eyes to tell me the truth."

"Me too," Qrow whispered hoarsely, understanding all too well the hallucinations, the nightmares so real they followed long after awakening.

The two sat in silence for a short while, the gravity of their shared symptoms weighing on them, neither ready for that discussion yet.

"I’m sorry… Sorry that I hurt you."

Red eyes flared, incredulous. "You're the one who… who…" he couldn't say it. Wouldn't say it. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the frustrated tears that pricked at the edges. Qrow was sick of crying, but he couldn’t bear to not see the man in front of him. He tried to blink back the tears before giving up entirely, letting them fall as he gazed desperately into his only lifeline. "Clover, I'm so sorry…"

Ignoring his own cascading tears, Clover let go of Qrow’s hand to lift his own to the man’s cheek, a calloused thumb brushing against the trail of water. It was futile, the drops kept falling, but there was a comfort in the simple gesture.

“I’m glad we feel the same,” Clover said softly, a genuine smile reaching his watery eyes. Relief washed over him, and his shoulders shook as he cried anew.

It soothed, it stung.

It ached, it healed.

Qrow’s newly freed hands twitched, reached out, clung to an already damp shirt. He tugged, and Clover leaned forward. Trembling hands slid up to cradle a head of chestnut locks, pulling until the weight rested on his shoulder. He held Clover to himself, held as tightly as he dared. And Clover wrapped his tired arms around Qrow’s middle, doing much the same.

It finally felt real. The thought hit Qrow like a truck as he felt the warmth of Clover’s shaking breaths, the rise and fall of his chest just as stuttered. The back of his neck cold and clammy, his tuft of hair damp and tangled. Qrow pressed his face into that mess of hair and wept, letting the realisation sink in fully.

He was here.

They were here.

Alive.

Far from well, but well on their way.

When their position became uncomfortable for Clover’s injury, Qrow helped him lean back against his pillow, then made to stand. A hand caught his wrist.

“Stay…”

Pleading green orbs held Qrow in place. He promised, “I’m not going anywhere, lucky charm.” 

Clover loosened his grip, startled by the familiar nickname. After a moment his brows furrowed in confusion. “Then what are you doing?”

“Was gonna get you something dry to change into. You’re a mess.”

“You’re a mess too.”

“I won’t look.”

Clover averted his gaze, ashamed. Qrow had seen right through him, he realised, clutching his shirt to his chest. It was drenched, and he needed a new one, but exposing the scar that marred his body… Just thinking about it made him want to vomit.

Warm fingers covered Clover’s trembling hand on his chest, and he looked helplessly into crimson orbs set in a concerned face. Qrow repeated, “I won’t look.”

Nodding in acceptance, Clover motioned to a small pile on the floor at the end of the bed. The clothing looked used already, but it was dry. Qrow pulled the warmest shirt he could find from the mound and sat back down on the bed. He handed the article over before turning to face away from Clover.

The brunette hesitated, staring at Qrow’s back, noting the reversal of their roles. Suddenly he was the one who needed support, and Qrow was the one lifting him up. Did he deserve to be cared for like that? Clover distracted himself from that thought, pulling the soaked top off and tossing it to the floor. He grabbed the fresh shirt and paused.

“Qrow?”

The raven-haired man remained still, not turning in the slightest at the call of his name.

“Yeah?”

Something in Clover’s chest tightened, then relaxed. He leaned forward, resting a hand on Qrow’s shoulder without thinking. Giving it a squeeze.

“I promised I wouldn’t look, didn’t I?” He didn’t sound annoyed, didn’t sound like he felt he was being tested either. His tone was reassuring.

Swallowing against a dry throat, ignoring the flop of his stomach, Clover reached past Qrow’s shoulder. Fingers brushed against the rough stubble of Qrow’s chin, slid to his cheek and stopped.

“You can look.”

When Qrow still did not move, his only reaction a slight tension of muscles, Clover turned his face for him. Their eyes met. Fresh tears slid down Clover’s cheeks, and he huffed an embarrassed laugh. He nodded, caressing Qrow’s cheek to let him know it was okay.

Slowly, Qrow let his gaze drop. He had to suppress a gasp at the sight before him. Tan skin was interrupted by an expanse of freshly scarred tissue. It looked red and tender, jagged as it trailed down Clover’s torso. Stretched taut from one end to the other.

Qrow lifted a hand, reached out, then stopped. He peeked up at teal eyes that continued to leak tears. Clover nodded nervously, resisting the urge to jerk away as Qrow ever so lightly touched his fingertips to the oddly smooth skin. Those fingers stilled, and Qrow took a deep breath before moving them again to splay out against the foreign mark.

Clover felt tension wrapping tightly around him as he prepared for some form of rejection. It was a wonder Qrow hadn’t recoiled in disgust already.

But Qrow didn’t recoil at all. Something beneath the surface caught his attention far more than the scar itself, and he found himself leaning closer, delicately pressing an ear against the damaged skin next to his hand. Clover froze, but Qrow seemed more relaxed than he had been since Clover couldn’t remember when.

“Still beating,” Qrow murmured softly, as if afraid anything louder might drown out the sound, the feeling of the pulse beneath.

Clover felt his chest dampen, and his mind sluggishly caught up to what was happening. He found himself threading fingers through salt and pepper locks, holding Qrow to his chest as he sank back against the pillows.

“Still beating,” he echoed, tension finally fading away as they soon drifted off to sleep.


End file.
